In spite of that perfect home training, your children will occasionally embarrass you.

If you're a parent and this has happened to you, say Aye.

How do I know this? Because I was once that child. I think I was about six years old. Not so sure.

It's a thread, needle.... It was in the early 90s, when the fear of poison and witchcraft was making the rounds. So, taking things from strangers was forbidden.

My mother distilled, instilled and occasionally enforced that lesson in us: 'Thou shalt not collect things from people without our permission.'

I've set #fires to my house and person, thrice in my life. Honest to heaven, they were all accidental.

I’m sure that somewhere in the world, I’d have probably been brought up on charges of arson.
This are the stories of Fire 1 and 2.

It's a thread, needle and... Let me start with the second fire. My love for movies started it.

It was my 2nd year in the university. That day, the sun competed with Hell. I’d just stepped into the building I lived in, away from the blistering heat.

All I could think of was a date with my faithful lover.

MEMOIRS OF AN ABUJA #JOBSEEKER.

Today, I had a job interview by 9:00 a.m. at a prestigious engineering firm. By the looks of the sun streaming through my bedroom curtains, it was afternoon already! Why had that stupid alarm not woken me up? In panic, I flew off the bed and ran to check my phone which lay on my reading table.

7:28 a.m., it read on the screen.
I heaved a sigh of relief; a race to the bathroom and thirty minutes later, I was ready. I whispered a prayer for success and favour and dashed out.

There are those moments in this life when #timestandsstill. I mean, it’s not in slow motion. Just, still.

Your belly does a little somersault and suddenly, you have the inordinate wish for the earth to open to a depth of twenty feet and swallow you. Your breath hitches and intense panic blossoms in your chest and…you get the picture.

These moments can happen when you’re caught doing something you shouldn’t be doing. Like stealing meat from the pot of stew. Or having an ex post your nudes on the internet.

I once watched a bride stop cold on the steps of a church & say, "This is more than cold feet. I can't marry him."

At the time, I only saw her fear. Today, at last, I understand. I'm amazed by her bravery.

*sigh*

Doing the right thing. It's hard, it hurts, but it must be done. Now I have to make a thread because of the replies from some men. I wasn't expecting the anger and condemnation.

It's easy to hold your phone and type hard words. Until you find yourself in the situation.

Be honest. We don't always do the right thing at the right time.

That day, I did not mean to lock my sister in the freezer. We were playing #hideandseek.

Story....story....story!
Once upon a time....time time.

My people, issa thread. It was one of those days; the sweltering heat was softened by cool breezes and leaves swayed on the trees, their shivering letting permitting the speckled rays of sun to touch the ground.

Ah, there’s nothing I won’t see in public vehicles in this country. Everywhere I turn, I’m not safe from #CabDrama

That’s how I boarded one cab; we were three at the back and one man sat in front. Then the driver stopped to pick up a plus-size woman. Of course we grumbled—those of us at the back. I'd gone out with little cash, so I couldn’t afford to pay for two seats.

The woman tried to squeeze herself inside. Ko le werk. The tout outside who was trying to shut the door couldn’t.

Remember the time I said I'd painted our house electric yellow and purple?

Weeeeeeell, technically, it wasn’t the house. It was just one room in the house. The living room. Before you start getting ideas, let me make one thing clear: I was not a problem child.

It’s my imagination, you see.
That thing kept dragging me into trouble.

This same imagination told me one day, that my father’s car had refused to start because of the carburettor.

This thing on Twitter I find baffling.

You disagree with a tweet. But rather than attack the idea or concept you don't agree with, you attack the person who tweeted.

So, she won't take off her nose ring to please the prospective in-laws she's meeting for the first time..... So what?

That's her choice.

Saying she'll be in Shiloh or look for pastors to pray for her to get married in future is stupid. And quite myopic.

If you have a valid reason why she should take it off, by all means share it.

If I were asked, I'd say to the lady....

#CabChronicles

When I've had a really exhausting day and I'm looking forward to going home to a delicious meal of Afang soup and garri, my bed, with the laptop in front of me, on which I'll watch Kingsman: The Secret Service for the 28th time. I had that kind of day.

On a day like this, when I board a cab, I don't want the driver or any other person to talk to me.

Alas! Some people will not agree. Like the proverbial village people, they're relentless and must talk and drag me into doing the same.

On three occasions in my short life, I have been mistaken for a commercial sex worker.

Back then I had almost no interaction with prostitutes and no respect for them. That has changed - story for another day.

Back to my tale of #WhatDoIDoForALiving
Hang on tight. Let's go dia! The first time, I was standing on curb of a major road in Enugu, waiting a bus or cab. I'd only been there for a few minutes, when a Volvo sedan came trundling.

I flagged it down and the driver slowed to a stop. I was quite pleased to find the car unoccupied.

Household accidents.

Cut a finger while chopping onions or grating coconut. Pour hot water on your body while trying to fill up the water flask.

Normal stuff.
Except when it came to me. My own accidents had to be spectacular.

Accidents enh? Let me thread carefully. As careful as I should've been when I was 9 years old.

It was after school and we were at the dining table - my siblings, our maid and Mama. We were eating garri and soup.

Then without warning, from nowhere, a voice told me to do something I'd been planning to do for a while.

Recently, I was going over my godchild's homework book.

I said, "A for akara."

Someone pointed out that that was 'local'. That I should've said, "A for Apple."

This later led to a conversation with my mother, who runs a crèche. I'll share some of what we talked about 👇🏾 Recently, a Nigerian man had to go to his daughter's school to set things straight.

The girl had been given an assignment. When asked who cooks for the home, her answer was, "Daddy."

The teacher marked her wrong. In 2018. As far as she was concerned, cooking is a woman's job.

I'm angry.

A Nigerian school hires a SAN to defend a teacher against a 3 y/old's accusation of sexual impropriety.

When I read that headline, I felt a heavy ball drop in my stomach. A potpourri of pain, incandescent rage, horror etc.

I have been there. I was 3. Didn't want to write this. But I'll do it for her. I'll do it because some people, in the face of evidence properly collected, believe that child is telling tales.

Someone said, "He's such a good Christian man. Very dedicated church worker. Loves his kids."

Are you one of those people who's looked back on 2017 and convinced yourself that you haven't achieved anything? Worried about catching up with your mates who seem to have done much better?

Let me tell you a story about #time.

A thread 👇 A long #time ago, back when I was about twelve or thirteen years old, my parents travelled to Uyo.

Before leaving, my mother asked me to prepare Edikang ikong soup so she and my father would eat when they returned.

Why I won't be a #bridesmaid ever again.

A thread 👇

@Alvinattor @anafricandiva @Iamplumpy @ememesi 1. I used to be a professional #bridesmaid.

See that movie, 27 Dresses? That girl's got nothing on me. Mine was more than 27.